


Ishimondo Tangled AU

by I_Otaku



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Death in Childbirth, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other minor characters mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29302077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Otaku/pseuds/I_Otaku
Summary: What it says on the tin! Currently just prologue and world building, next update begins the actual story of Kiyotaka and Mondo. This will get the ship tag once it's actually relevant
Kudos: 4





	Ishimondo Tangled AU

A young woman sat on a rooftop, her twin inside their cottage, cutting vegetables and stirring broth. The woman watched the stars twinkle in the sky, small blinks of light in the huge sea of darkness. She wondered just briefly what would happen if they were to disappear, the quiet calm of the sky. Would the world fall to ruin? Would the kingdom nearby weep for their beloved stars? Would anyone truly care? She didn't care either way. Why should anyone else? Deep in thought- she clicked her boots against the roof tiling. 

It was only because she was staring that she noticed what happened next. The north star, the brightest and strong of all did just that. It flashed- and fell. She rushed to her feet, watching it streak through the night sky- it grew in size as it neared the forest just across the path. It fell in a huge streak of light- before vanishing under the treetops. The woman fell more than climbed down her vine laden wall.

Running through the trees and tripping over vines- the woman shoved leaves out of her hair and fought to breathe. Bright- blinding artificial light scorched the forest floor, casting dark shadows. As she neared the woman had to shield her eyes, taking sidelong glances at the source. 

It slowly dimmed, the smell of charred dirt and plants appearing instead. When her eyes could hazard a look- adjusted back to the dark of the night- 

A plant sat in the center of a smoldering crater, other plants uprooted and dirt in piles around it. It was a flower- or it used to be a flower. Now it's petals shone not with color but a suffocating lack of it. The plant was a bright- blinding white. It was a shade so clean and strong she had never seen anything like it. The woman approached, sliding down into the crater and falling to her knees in front of the bud. She reached out slowly, finger tracing the curl of a single petal and to her shock her touch left not a single shadow or refraction. 

She plucked a petal next, watching the white dim and fade as soon as it was removed. It wilted to a heartless grey, then a deep black. She crumpled it in her hand and blew the dust before reaching out again. 

The woman sang with words she had no way of knowing.

_Star from up on high,_

_See my strife this night,_

_Fix my pained heartache,_

_Undo this deathly fright,_

_Mend what has been torn,_

_Renounce the wheels of time,_

_Where despair now sits,_

_Relight this hope of mine,_

_This hope of mine_

Junko Enoshima returned to her twin two years younger than when she left.

Mizuki Ishimaru was never a particularly healthy woman, her hands shook and she was prone to fainting spells in the heat and the cold from toddling onward. It didn't stop her from ruling her kingdom, nor did it stop her from falling in love- but it was a part of her life she could never relinquish. Just as the red stars on her country's flag were forever in her dresses, her sickness was a part of her she had come to accept. At twenty years old when she was introduced to her fiancé she had kept it hidden so he never thought less of her. Mizuki was a fighter and she pushed through it harder than she ever should have at quite a heavy cost. She collapsed at the altar, almost causing a nationwide scandal. 

Takaaki never complained. Takaaki held her hand in an offer of kindness, of respect. They both knew it was to help her keep her balance as they strolled the castle- but she didn't say it and neither did he. They were equals, their own strengths and weaknesses. He was a gentleman, soft eyes and rather militaristic view that Mizuki worked years and years to chip away. She was rigid in the other way, unwavering on the benefit of her subjects. And when anyone expected her to yield- Takaaki would. They made each other better.

They were royals, but they were also in love. Or at least, as best they could be. Mizuki could be too determined just as Takaaki could be too strict, but they did their best to work through it. And they ruled together, paying whatever was necessary to keep Mizuki's illness from being known. When they were pressured by their then retired parents to conceive, tired of endless public questions they could never answer truthfully and terrible insults slung at the king under hushed whispers and laughs- 

Mizuki sat on their bed, her hands folded on her lap. Takaaki sat beside her, his hand on her knee. It was a long stressful day and it weighed heavy on their shoulders. 

"I'd like to," she spoke softly, "I'd like to be a mother. I think you'd make a wonderful father," she looked up at him and smiled- relishing as the stress melted from her husband's brow. 

"You would make a fantastic mother," he held her knee, "but at what cost? Could you- could _we_?"

She laughed, that wonderful way that dazzled him every time. "I don't rightly know, but I want to try. Soon, I won't have the time or the energy for certain. If we can try now-" she squeezed his hand in both of hers, "I want to." 

"I love you," 

"And I love you. You are my moon," She let go of his hand to cradle his face. 

"And you are my stars," He whispered back- pressing his lips to hers. She was so sweet, so warm and safe- They spoke quietly of names the next morning with legs entangled. Mizuki suggested Kiyotaka. It was perfect, rejoicing the new generation of nobility, celebrating the pain they had endured to keep going through everything. A celebration of them and their future child. Takaaki suggested Emiyo for the same reason, a blessed and beautiful generation. Their child would be a miracle, and they in turn would give them the world. Their child of the moon and stars.

When it was certainly safe- when they knew for sure she was pregnant and there was no longer a risk of losing the child- the announcement was the largest party either had ever seen. People flooded the streets, carrying the star and moon patterned flags of the nation to cheer. Gifts were delivered the next week, suggestions of names and locations for studying abroad, names dropped for tutors and teachers. Their child was a star already. But as the delivery date approached, Mizuki grew weaker and weaker. By month seven she was unable to sit for public reigning, only suggesting and collaborating through written decree. Takaaki was unsteady without her- but did his best. Month eight, she was entirely on bed rest. She slept most days, unable to leave without extensive aid from the handmaids. When she fell asleep one night and did not wake in the morning, her skin hot and sweaty- Takaaki knew he had no choice. 

Out of doctors and medicines, he had no choice but to believe in myth and legend. He began searching the kingdom for the Starlight Blossom, a flower said to be grown from a falling star. It was whispered that the flower had the ability to heal, to rewind time, to make whoever consumed the bud invincible. It shone with blinding white light and was especially popular for the kingdom of stars that they were. 

And he sent search parties, he sent troops, he sent battalions. He offered an endless wealth of money for whoever could gather the flower. 

Junko Enoshima had, of course, heard of the offers. But she did what came natural to her- she ignored them. She kept the blossom to herself, already three times as old as she should have been. She still looked young, she still ran with healthy joints and sang with a clear throat. Junko hoarded her magic, desperate to cling to the rush and beauty it offered her. Her twin had already abandoned her to a kingdom shrouded in darkness with its own magic charm. 

And when Junko was singing, feeling the artificial white glow burn against her skin tightening it- someone heard her. Someone called in the forest, yelling of the light. She rushed to cover her secret and escape, not noticing in her rush she knocked the disguise back off. 

She watched with contempt as the guards descended into her crater- yelling for a shovel. She watched them pot the plant, and before they had even left she had her new plan in mind. They would not take away her only pleasure in life- they would not kill her like that. She would have her starlight back. 

Takaaki ground the flower himself, his hands shaking and brow sweating. Was it too late? Would he lose his queen and his child? Would this be enough? He rushed to her bedside, the woman still unwaking. As he tipped the liquid into her mouth he watched in awe as her skin began to glow in spiralling webs of light. She shone like a star, before the light began to fade. She did not wake. 

Instead Takaaki put his hand down on the bed, shocked to find the blanket wet. He called in the handmaids and doctors waiting just outside. 

While Mizuki reacted, her eyes did not open. And Takaaki watched as through an arduous fight- their son was born. But Mizuki never opened her eyes. She would never again open her eyes. Kiyotaka Ishimaru was placed in his hands, hair a bright spattering of white on his head. He blinked up at his father with Mizuki’s eyes- the man himself unable to stop the tears that fell down his cheeks. The flower saved their son, although it was too late to save his wife. Now, Kiyotaka was everything in the world. Kiyotaka would never be anything less than adored. Takaaki would move mountains for his child. 

A shame that Junko would do far worse for the same reason. 

She waited three years, travelling into the city to collect groceries and fabrics for sewing, gathering knowledge and rumors. She listened to guards drunk at one of the bars, she listened to exhausted overworked handmaids who were caring for the crown prince. When she found a tower exploring the woods, surrounded by long forgotten walls and hidden by vines- she was ready to enact her plan. Junko would steal whatever the child had, steal back her beauty and youth and if worse came to it- escape to her tower. She snuck into the castle through the servants quarters, and scaled the side of the castle in the dead of night to collect herself on the balcony of the prince’s room. The door was unlocked, and she entered. 

While she expected the child to have some essence of the flower, it’s unnatural hair startled her. It was almost dizzying to look at, and when Junko sang the song that had kept her alive and gorgeous- it reacted. Its hair, uncut and snow white began to glow. The child itself _was_ the Starlight Blossom, now in human skin. 

She approached soaking in the warmth of the light and tightening of her skin. She slid a finger under one of the locks, withdrawing her scissors to cut it. And just as the blades closed- the white lock in her hand wilted like the plucked petal so many years ago. The white hair stopped its glow before shrivelling up into a small useless black strand. The rest of the hair wilted next- receding up to its scalp. 

And to her horror- the child opened its eyes and began to cry. She recoiled, looking between the nuisance and the door desperate to figure out what to do. Before she could figure out anything better she lifted the child- covering its mouth and fastening it to her chest with a sling made from the sheet. 

She scaled back down the castle just barely hearing the yelling that came from the open balcony door. On her horse- Junko rushed past her cottage to instead the tower, barricading herself in with what she prepared. 

The child didn’t stop crying, not until she raised her voice. 

“Shut up! Stop crying!” She roared. 

The baby silenced. 

“Good. Now you listen- there are going to be a lot of new rules. And you are gonna follow every single one.”

Kiyotaka grew up with his mother Junko, learning the importance of a great many rules. He had them all memorized by the time he was seven, although she would add on new ones at the drop of a hat. He would repeat those to himself every hour to ensure he would never forget. Rule one- always listen to mother. She was always right, she was always in charge, and she was the most important person in his life. Rule two- never cut his hair. His hair was sacred, it was a gift from the sky for his mother and if he ever cut it he would kill her. (Rule two was a direct tie in to rule one, which made it easy for him to remember). The next rules were never as important, or as frequently implemented. He would wake every morning at five am and clean the tower room (scrubbing the floors, brushing his hair, doing any dishes, organizing and creating a list of groceries, polishing the furniture, the usual work). He would always be there to collect his mother from outside at eight am. First by opening the door, until his hair grew long enough to lift her.

He never complained, he never whined, he never moaned. He did not ask for anything, and he adored anything his mother gave him because she did so out of the generosity of her heart. He never left the tower, because he would be hunted and scalped for his hair. He would die without mother, and if he ever left he would kill her. He did not cry, he did not yell or scream, he did not raise his voice at her.

And for a great many years he slowly began to change his mind, although he would never admit it. He locked away his feelings, he tied down the aching gnaw in his chest for wanting more. His pillow and his mirror heard the late night ramblings of his heart, the confusion and fear he felt waking to the knowledge that every day would be the same, that he would never be allowed to leave or learn anything more. Mother brought him books sometimes, detailing the rulings of kingdoms and nature- but that was all he had. He had no friends, no freedom, and no escape. But he was safe, and that was enough (or at least that was what he told himself. He was paralyzed with fear each and every time he gazed too long out the window, but the yearning never left him. Maybe if he was better, maybe if he did more- Mother would let him leave. Maybe if he was a better son, she would take him out to touch the grass. If he cleaned a little more, worked a little harder, worker a little longer, studied his books a little better-). 

But Kiyotaka would always listen, he would always sing every time she brushed his hair, he would always cook and he always made his little lists.

The first time he broke a rule, he threw up. He leaned out the window of his tower, seeing the small orange lizard clung to the brickwork and offered a hand without realizing. And he brought them inside, setting his new friend on the kitchen table to observe more. He realized immediately afterwards that he broke the rule of bringing in anything that Junko did not offer- and rushed to the kitchen sink to vomit. The lizard jumped over to him, climbing onto his braid and patting his head. And when he washed out the acrid taste in his mouth, he offered a hand for the lizard to sit on- which they did. Small scales jutted from their head like the ends of Junko’s bangs- Kiyotaka thought they looked like hair. One on their tiny chin too.

He finally had a chance to practice the conversation rules he learned from his social studies book. “What is your name?” He asked, smiling. 

The lizard flicked it’s tongue out at him and he laughed. 

“We can figure out your name later,” He said. “Please let me show you around!”

Every year on August thirty first- Junko would bring him a cake and they would sit and watch the fireworks that would shoot into the night sky. Mother said they were from the nation down the way who was vile and violent- attempting to destroy the sky. But Kiyotaka knew that was wrong. Something about the celebration never felt gruesome. It felt more like a calling card, like shooting a flare- something one of the book characters he read about did. He wanted to learn more about the kingdom almost because of the yearly fireworks. They were on his birthday after all.

Leon- his chameleon friend- would bring him fruits sometimes. He would listen to him talk and remind him of the time or alert him if his mother was arriving without warning. He didn’t talk much, being a chameleon and all- but Kiyotaka didn’t mind. It was nice to not be completely alone. Kiyotaka would work, or clean, or brush his hair, and Leon would squeak at him to mimic a conversation. Sentences and questions asked by Taka, little lizard sounds returned by Leon. He did seem to understand a little, with shaking or nodding his head. They were quite a pair.

And just like that, Kiyotaka grew up. Every day the same- every week of every month of every year. He held onto his rules and did his best to believe his mother- that he was safe and that she was right. He purposefully ignored the gnawing question in his chest, and clung to what he knew as his only safety net. Junko loved him, and he loved her. And that was his life. At least, up until his nineteenth birthday. That birthday was when everything changed.


End file.
